


i'll wash, you dry

by doughnutwhore



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: CAN'T WAIT FOR THEM TO KISS LOL, F/F, I LOVE THIS SHOW SO MUCH YALL HAVE NO IDEA, I WILL DIE FOR VILLANELLE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 11:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18777439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doughnutwhore/pseuds/doughnutwhore
Summary: “ouch. aren’t you happy to see me, baby?”alternatively: in which Villanelle shows up to cook dinner for Eve





	i'll wash, you dry

**Author's Note:**

> let me just say this now - i would die for villanelle
> 
> *work of fanfiction. no copyright infringement intended

Eve desperately wished that she knew how to cook. There were recipes, of course, which were quite helpful, and she had her moments of nailing particular ones, but  _ cooking  _ in general was completely out of her grasp. Heck, she couldn’t even make a proper omelette for her husband. Thankfully, she married someone who knew how to cook. Niko, bless his soul, was even quite good at it. So in their household, it was usually the husband feeding the wife, and not the other way around. Which was why Eve was currently having a difficult night. She had been having a few of them actually. Niko had been away for a work trip since the week before, and Eve was having trouble fending for herself in the kitchen. She tried to cook for herself of course, but that only lead to a few cuts, some minor burns, and a damaged palate. She resigned to ordering takeout after the third night that last week when she accidentally put sugar instead of salt and almost gave herself diabetes. 

She sighed aloud for the nth time that night as she perused their various takeout flyers. Indian. No. Chinese. No. Korean. It wouldn’t taste like her mom’s cooking and that would just be disappointing, so no. She could order pizza, but she had that last night. And the night before. And the night before that as well. She sighed again. She was running out of options. She was about to look through the chinese takeout menu again when her doorbell rang. She stood hesitantly from her seat on the dining table. She wasn’t expecting anyone. 

She walked towards the front door, rolled her eyes when she finally saw the figure outside. She could tell who it was despite the blur of the frosted glass door. The height. The frame. The blonde hair. She yanked the door open without a hint of fear. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Ouch. Aren’t you happy to see me, baby?” Villanelle said, smirking like an asshole as she entered Eve’s house without preamble. Eve wanted to be annoyed but then again she moved to make way. 

“Take off your -”

“I know the drill,” Villanelle interrupted, turning to wink at Eve while she removed her shoes. She then proceeded to the kitchen, moving about the room like she owned the place. Eve followed after her. 

“You didn’t answer my question before.”

“What question?”

“What are you doing here?”

That was when Villanelle put the plastic bags on the kitchen counter. Eve didn’t notice them before, but now that she was paying attention she could make out the different vegetables poking out of the cellophane. There was a bag of rice on the left hand bag. Some seasoning. Was that an apron? 

“What the hell is going on?” Eve demanded. 

“Baby, I’m here to cook dinner for you,” Villanelle answered, smug as the devil. 

“What?”

“You’ve been eating way too much takeout. I’m concerned, darling.”

“How do you know about the takeout?”

“I watch you from your window outside.” 

“You what?”

Villanelle shrugged. “Your husband is away, right? I was just making sure that you were safe.”

Okay, Eve didn’t know how to feel about  _ that  _ but it was bordering on how she felt that one time when Villanelle sent her those flowers. Still, Eve played it cool. She was a married woman. This was a mistake. 

“Villanelle -”

“Shhh. I know you like it when I watch you. And I like it when you watch me too. So why don’t you sit your pretty self down and watch me cook for you, hmm?”

Eve wanted to say no. She really did. But she was hungry and she was tired of takeout and if she was being honest, Villanelle looked pretty damn good in shorts. 

“Fine.”

“Good choice.”

She watched as Villanelle moved about the kitchen now wearing a pink apron that said “KISS THE COOK” (Eve had to roll her eyes), watched her arms work as she sliced cabbages and peeled potatoes. Villanelle smirked, obviously liking the attention. 

“What are you making?” Eve finally asked after what felt like an eternity of comfortable silence.

“Solyanka,” Villanelle replied, her accent thick and rich. It did something to Eve’s knees, but she wasn’t going to let Villanelle know that. 

“And that is?”

“Hot beef stew.”

Eve raised a brow. “Hot as in spicy?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t like spicy food.”

Villanelle smirked. “Yes you do.”

Damn it, Eve thought. But then again she was also impressed. Villanelle knew her. She knew what she liked. Even things that she didn’t know she did. It was intoxicating. 

Another bout of silence followed after that. Eve watched as Villanelle cooked her stew, listened as she hummed Roxette’s Listen To Your Heart under her breath. It all felt normal. Domestic. And Eve didn’t mind it at all. 

Eve set the table when Villanelle finished cooking. She felt a little ashamed about their plates and their bowls. They all looked so ordinary. No, she thought. She pushed those thoughts aside. Villanelle was in her house. And Eve happened to like her kitchenware.

“I brought champagne,” Villanelle announced. 

Eve gave her a look. 

Villanelle rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. I didn’t poison it.”

They sat parallel to each other on the table. Villanelle served her stew and watched as Eve took her first bite. 

The moan that Eve let out echoed through the house. Who knew that food could be so orgasmic?

“Careful, baby. I might just memorize the sound of that,” Villanelle said smugly, revelling in the way Eve’s face contorted while she ate. 

“Shut up. This is amazing.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Really. When did you learn how to cook?”

Villanelle shrugged. “I live alone. I need to learn how to take care of myself.”

Eve nodded, taking another spoonful of her Solyanka. Villanelle ate hers, every so often stealing glances at the other woman. 

They were quiet for a while. Villanelle let Eve enjoy their dinner, and Eve was too hungry to talk. And then -

“Do you want to watch a movie? After this, I mean... I have Netflix.” Eve had no idea what compelled her to ask, but it was out in the open now, hanging above them and in between them. 

Villanelle smiled. Eve wasn’t sure if it was genuine, but she could see the crinkles in the other woman’s eyes. And then her smile turned into a smirk, and just like that Villanelle was back to being an asshole. 

“Are you proposing Netflix? Or netflix and  _ chill? _ ”

Eve rolled her eyes. “If by chill you mean sex then no. But if by chill you meant ice cream then sure, why not.”

Villanelle winked. “That’s alright baby. I’m not forcing you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Eve laughed. She didn’t know what was going on, wasn’t entirely sure why she let Villanelle into her home. But there they were, eating dinner and flirting like Eve wasn’t a married woman, like Villanelle wasn’t an assassin, and as if Eve didn’t almost kill her. They didn’t know where they stood with each other. They weren’t sure what they were to each other. All the lines had been crossed. But all the lines were blurry from the start anyway. 

“Want me to help with the dishes?” Villanelle offered when they finished eating.

Eve smiled. “I’ll wash, you dry.”


End file.
